


Where are the Stars?

by StopitGerald



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: Abandonment, Blood Loss, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Compromising situations, Death, Declarations Of Love, Feelings Realization, Future Foundation (Dangan Ronpa), Future Foundation Missions, Giving Up, Hurt No Comfort, Loss, Loss of hope, Love Confessions, Major Character Injury, No closure, Sacrifice, Self-Sacrifice, Unrequited Love, Wounds, death from major injury, just gross pain and dying and oof, subliminal crush
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-04-23 23:09:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14342913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StopitGerald/pseuds/StopitGerald
Summary: They're all gone.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> if you're looking for a happy story this isnt it.

Everything happens for a reason, yea, that’s what he tells himself, standing stone-cold statuette frozen in the middle of it all.

 

His body trembles limp, gangly, fearful. As everything unfolds around him, he’s caught in metaphorical Medusa’s crystallizing stare and thus rendered useless. He cannot even make to form a cry out for help, though he knows, is so so certain that something is very very wrong-

 

He knows the drill, he’s run through it a couple hundred and something odd thousand times with every other sap employed by the future foundation. He’s a goody-two-shoes, always-listens-to-the-instructor and with said drill comes the knowledge that they have full permission to leave without him if he doesn’t get a move on. Only a limited amount of time can the ‘rescue’ helicopter linger here, they’ve been compromised, after all- but he’s glued to the spot like a once-loose newel post knob fixated with Krazy glue.

 

It seems he’s the only one who thinks anything is afoot. Everyone else he knows, his colleagues, friends, family, he might even go as far as to call them- They’re fleeing and shouting- but why? For whom? They remind him of birds, frenzied flocking in one narrow direction, towards their rescuer. They’re ready to leave, they know the imminent death that comes from being left post- a failed mission. He cannot blame them, for their lives are at stake-

 

Yet, his feet stay lingering still, planted like he’s put down roots, and he watches them run like scared children from a Halloween night scare towards their only escape. He’s Naegi Makoto- friendliest, kindest, most generous, sacrificial lover and bringer of all that is good- though he’d deny such praise any other day, today is special, a little celebration for a bit of breakthrough. His nurturing nature leads him to count heads like a kindergarten teacher as his coworkers move around him, and someone is missing.

 

Ah, as he’d expected.

 

Everyone is scared, tired, witless, chickens with severed heads- they’re loading in the helicopter now, those quick enough to escape the front lines ahead of him- his own body isn’t exactly in its peak form at the moment, nor is his mind, befuddled and clouded with panic and sheer terror. Someone comes back for him, tries to grip onto his shoulder to shake him back to reality, calls to him, “Naegi-kun, we have to go!”-

 

But he’s not going with them.

 

Sore and aching knees shake in protest when he finally takes off in a sprint, far too sudden for tired bones. He pushes away whoever had come back to grab him- not even bothered to spare them a glance- he knows now who is missing, and he will get to him or die trying.

 

His shoes kick up shattered pebbles and misshapen chunks of asphalt as he scrambles back towards their current ‘compromise’. He and his team had been at work for hours before the security breach, working, searching, scanning, analyzing, all the sorts of labor that go into being the team that has to do a little bit of everything. They’re the jacks of all trades, and it gets tiring. But the building had started to come down a little too suddenly for any of them to shrug it off- and now they were being evacuated. Well… the others were.

 

But he’s focused now, tripping over rocks and debris and junk as he runs maniac back towards the building they’d all just ran away from- His mad dash is met with no resistance, sans someone calling his name as he pushes forward. They’d been at work on the ground floor of this nearly dilapidated tower building, several stories high at one point this morning has just collapsed down in on itself- it hadn’t been structurally sound when they’d begun poking around in it, yet they’d taken the risk. They were evacuating because such big explosions of activity draw attention- and the last thing they need to be is attacked.

 

Oh well.

 

Rebar and chunks of concrete, shattered glass dots his path as he trips back towards the huge pile of rubble- dust fills the air and makes him cough, cough, shaking in every set of soul as he runs- it could still come down the rest of the way, unstable enough to do so, but he races still- ignores the yells from who he believes to be Kirigiri because he has to get back inside!

 

He has to get to him!

 

And there he is.

laid up against a wall in all his unfettered glory, desperately scrabbling once fine manicured fingernails against hard concrete, trying to get to them yet he’s been ignored- Naegi can’t believe no one had turned back for him- they’d seen him take the shard of glass to his abdomen as it fell from above, but Naegi is pushing through the last of piles of rubble and coughing up dust and debris- he’s almost to him- and he’s taking him upon an arm to steady him.

 

He’s no idea how it got this bad so fast- Togami is bound to the floor with a gaping wound in his abdomen, his black blazer is dyed vanta with the soaking wet of blood sopping, what he can see of where the glass had torn his button up is nothing more than a gory gash, his abdomen is reduced to crimson screaming, pooling, pouring- Blood is everywhere. His face, aghast pallid with horror, and it’s so frighteningly deep he likely can’t even feel the pain anymore- His cheeks are splattered, eyes wide as he gropes wearily for Naegi’s arms, desperate for something, someone, to hold him up.

 

Naegi is suddenly a mess of tears falling and chest heaving, trying to console himself enough to go on and do something as he rips frantically at the fabric of his own blazer, tearing it off of his shoulders in a bloody panic- tenderly presses ball of fabric to abdomen in hopes of staunching the blood flow. He’s not sure if he can do much more, gently cups Togami’s cheeks in a frenzied psychosis and stares him in the eyes as he begs him to keep those powder blues open, just keep them open, Togami-kun, just look at me, don’t go to sleep.

 

And he can hear the helicopter leave- leave full of people who must not know love as he does, because god damn it- he loves Byakuya Togami. Through it all, through all they know of each other, through the game and the escape and the future foundation office escapades, he loves this man.

 

His blond is splattered with drying blood, some of it tethered to his lips with spit from his gasping and groaning, his once-tall stature is now doubled over and sobbing, he’s independent and strong with an attitude to match, though now he clings to Naegi because he’s his literal actual life support- It only strengthens his feelings, oh god, he’s going to be sick.

 

It takes him two minutes to get Togami to slow his breathing and lay back against a concrete pillar busted in two- the sun hangs low behind another fallen skyscraper, it’s a beautiful radiation of orange twilight hues and he’d appreciate it if it didn’t remind him of blazing fires and the blood clotting in Togami’s stomach.

 

He’s not going to make it. Naegi knows it just by seeing- and in it all he doesn’t think he’ll make it either- he’s been battered- emotionally and physically, the foundation shan’t come back for him now, too much of a liability. He’ll rot here. He knows it, his deemed saving grace, redeeming quality: that optimism. But there is no room for optimism here, Togami is suffering, and there is no point in keeping his head held high anymore.

 

But Togami, Togami- he needs to pay attention to Togami- he’s coddling him now, sitting ahead of him on his knees in between two horribly splayed legs and leaning forward to put pressure on the wound and choking back tears and spittle. No words have passed, but now it’s calmed down to a sad slow and easy and nothing more he can do, nothing more he can do.

 

“Thanks.”

 

It’s a groaning croak, surprises him to a slight start because he hadn’t thought him capable of speech any longer- he chokes on a sob, nods with eyes shut tight and assures him there’s nothing else he would’ve done. It’s another long beat of deafening silence and Togami’s ragged deep breathing and Naegi’s sniffling. He moves to sit aside Togami instead, secured what he could of his wounds- he feels bad about the scrapes and bruises lining the other man’s face: A cut across the bridge of his nose, glasses displaced somewhere in their scrabbling and long forgotten, a bruise discolors his handsome cheek, but those small ailments are the least of his worries. They’re not what’s going to kill him.

 

“Here. Last one.”

 

Sudden last bit of strength fuels his slow movements- half-empty flask is passed to him- a cigarette with a matchbox lighter. He knows Togami has some nasty habits. He’s not a religious smoker, and not what he’d called an alcoholic, but he drinks enough to be a regular, smokes enough to roughen his honey smooth voice. Naegi is not a drinker nor a smoker, doesn’t understand why people would ever do such a thing to themselves, deteriorate their bodies so willingly, but he accepts the tools of bodily harm anyways. One last hoorah before what he knows is soon to come.

 

The first puff of smoke sends him into coughing fit, hand cupped before his mouth because he’s never done this before and it’s irritating his virgin lungs into heaving and gasping, but taking another drag anyways. Togami is weak in soft laughter at his childish reaction, face pallid and ghastly contrasting the red streaks of blood, a strand of hair is still stuck to his lips, spit dried it there. His eyes swim in an emotion Naegi can’t quite name; Togami knows it too, that he’s dying, but they don’t talk about it.

 

The liquor tastes like iron- but that’s just blood on the rim from where Togami had taken his first swig. Its taste is empty, just as staggering as the cigarettes but all in the spirit of humoring the dying boy next to him. He passes the cigarette back, sighs and closes hazels and hopes when he opens them he’ll be at home in bed- his old home, he wishes he’d never applied to Hope’s Peak in the first place. If he never met Togami it wouldn’t hurt him so agonizingly much to be losing him right now.

 

They sit close as close can be, Togami is propped against the concrete pillar, smashed in by the other half of the buildings collapse, rebar pokes out of its crown like barbed wire, and Naegi pays it no mind as he scoots even closer, props himself onto some discarded debris and trash- they’re shoulder to shoulder, thighs touch on the edges and he brings himself no delight in thinking of it as some sort of squirmy first move- this is only the end.

 

“What is,” Togami coughs around the cigarette, splutters, blood drips down his chin. He isn’t looking at Naegi anymore, cloudy blues don’t seem to find focus anywhere, only a blank stare into the heavens. It’s like he’s gone blind. “The worst thing you’ve ever done?”

 

He can think of some things, especially as of now, he’s been through a good bit, done some things, said some things. He’s just some average kid with some average mistakes, but he thinks, panicked by the idea of losing Togami before he can respond, he deserves an answer. Give him an answer!

 

“I, well,” He stumbles, scratches the back of dried sweat-plastered neck with fingers, and leaves along his skin a trail of dried blood, which had been caked under his nails, “I stole Komaru’s diary and read it in fourth grade once… I felt pretty bad about that.”

 

Another strangled chuckle, a choke, more blood spills, “God. You’re too good for this world.”

 

He’s a bittersweet smile as his head rolls lazily, too weak to move it on his own, and he looks back at Naegi- he himself is unaccustomed to such genuine faces on snark king Byakuya Togami, but it’s time for honesty, it’s time for softness and gentle voices and gentler touches, there is no attitude here. He came back to save him, and he’s done all he can. He’s done all he can and, for once, Togami is thankful. Thankful for a hand to hold as he fades.

 

“Everything you do is pure hearted. I envy that.”

 

He’s back to staring into space, smile fallen for forlorn, bittersweet, slight hang of bloodied lips open to pull a soft gasp of air in, he’s still bleeding, eyes flutter with effort to keep them open. He’s upsetting himself.

 

“I don’t know how you stay so optimistic, I couldn’t-.”

 

‘That’s okay, togami kun, that’s okay, that’s who you are and I still-‘ no, he doesn’t say it, only thinks it, just nods soft requiem, biting his lips and sighing out loud. He’s not sure if he can hang on to said optimism, but never would he spoil Togami’s angelic image of him in his last moments. Togami’s head startles him in its loll back towards him yet again, his head rests upon his shoulder now, and he’s so uncharacteristic in his snuggling of his cheek against the sweat-sticky fabric of Naegi’s torn button up- his baby blues barely keep open anymore- He gestures slowly, robotically to the cigarette dangling from his lips, so he takes it and shakenly places it between his own. The filter is bloody.

 

“You’re so much stronger than I could ever be. I-“

 

He groans suddenly, eyes shut tight in horrific agonizing electrifying pain and he spasms a moment, tensing and shuddering. Naegi coaxes his broken body closer, squeezes his hand tight, tight, tight- don’t leave me here alone, it screams, please don’t leave me. He has to jut their heads together to keep him somewhat upright- keep him from drowning in his own blood pooling in his mouth- it’s sticky and wet again between them- red and dark cling to their clothes- His abdomen is still heavy with blood- his skin so white pale. He’s only hurting himself talking so much-

 

“No- Togami-kun, stop-“

 

“And I’m in love with you, Naegi.”

 

All movements stop rapid abrupt, he stops his wrestling to keep Togami upright and stable, His hand nearly leaves the other’s grip- He’s not sure what to say to that, certainly hadn’t expected it- sure, they’d become a lot closer these days, surely better friends than before the killing game- close buds, friends, right? But yea, no, he’d be a damn fool to act like Togami didn’t arouse something in him- electric blues, fair skin, fiery personality- all special and new and pulling him in like the tides of the sea-

 

“I love you too, Togami-kun”

 

He hasn’t much time left now, deserves to hear it because it’s the truth- pale and paler and grip on Naegi’s wrist is weak, weak. He relaxes his tense posture. Relaxes and still grips hand in his own, gentle wavering hold shakes, but he supports it. He presses his ear down atop the head resting in the crook of his neck so they lie upon one another- snuggles him closer to their total lay into one another. Their hands still intertwined, and he squeezes gentle. Strokes thumb against roughened palm, takes slow drag, but now doesn’t cough.

 

“It’s okay,” He croons, murmurs soft to keep his jaw from disturbing the head laid beneath it. Togami is breathing shallow now, struggling to keep himself awake, and Naegi knows, no matter how the tears are flowing, no matter how hard his body shakes in his crying woes from laying here with his dying beloved, he’s losing him. This is it, he knows he knows, Togami squeaks beneath him, blood bubbles from his mouth, his frame shakes tremors and he clings to life, clings, clings,

 

Naegi had never been able to tell him before tonight- that he loves him so- it’s too late.

 

“I- Naegi,” He tries to shush him again, hates that he’s making his final moments so pain-filled, so desperate to tell him what he hadn’t before. He wishes he’d just drift off to sleep, he’s done all he can, he cannot do more, he wishes for him to finally be at rest and away from this foul world. Away from the last slow, crawling hour or so of agony.

 

He doesn’t want to lose hope, but what is there to hang onto now? He’s lost his sense of optimism, he thinks- and it’s okay- Togami can take it to the shallow grave with him, it’s like a gift, like the flowers he’ll never be able to give him in person, but rather will have to lay them atop a gravestone.

 

“I love- I love you,” He’s breathing so light, quick, and his whole body tenses and trembles- his hand tightens for one last second, though weak, and suddenly falls motionless.

 

Togami is dead.

 

He knows it with that last squeaking exhale, the sudden slump of once-desperate-to-stay-awake head lolling into his shoulder far too limp and heavy- hand goes stiff and cold- but he doesn’t cry- can’t- he’s already used all of his tears for the night- he’ll rot here now aside his too late lover.

 

He drags the cigarette long and slow to its finish, swigs alcohol one last time and tosses the silvery flask as hard as he can into the street ahead of him with the arm not supporting Togami- Dust still clings heavy to the air, muddles the world above him. The sky overhead isn’t blood red anymore, rather dark night purple-black pallet with no stars-

 

no stars? so strange, but maybe they’ve all died with Togami- he wishes he was dead too- he’s shivering, but he’s not cold.

 

“I love you too.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk where im going with this- this is just blurbs of a scenario. this wasnt my sole idea either- some smarter, more creative people came up with it and im just ruining it with my writing ;;; oh well

Naegi wakes up to the jittering roar of helicopter blades, he’s not sure when he passed out, but it certainly hadn’t been a restful sleep. More like he'd been punched unconscious, blacked out against his will. He feels perhaps more tired than he felt before, and every fiber of his being aches with sores and muscles complaining at lack of use because he’s usually so exuberant, and yet he's been sitting in this position for well over twenty four hours now- He doesn’t bother to tear his eyes open, he feels it will hurt too much to do so. He can hear, though, as the sounds grow louder, the cutting air is far too ear-splitting for his tender head, and he cannot help but wince at the sound.

Maybe he’s died and this is some sort of strange purgatory, but no, no, this is the same twisted reality he’d fallen away in last night. Togami’s head is still ten pounds a weight on his shoulder, his hand is cold, cold, so cold, and limp and stiff in their still twined grip. He can’t tell if anything has changed with Togami’s body- god, death is disgusting- but Togami is beautiful, always will be.

Naegi's alive, then, sure, but why was that helicopter back here? What reason had they to come back to such a dangerous area? Maybe to scope for things left behind, but he forgets that he and Togami are among those things, forgets because he no longer cares whether they find him or not. He’d rather like to die here alongside Togami, he doesn’t want to live any longer in a world that kills such young, wonderful people in such meaningless ways- people so deserving of life and love and-

He can hear them, conversing, yelling to one another over the slowly dying roar of the engine as they take their leave from the helicopter to start their search. He still keeps eyes sealed, hazels kept aloft by crusty eyelids, he can smell old blood in the air, and feel it caked to his hands. He’s given up. He’s not sure why this death affects him so over the many many he’s experienced as of now- true love, maybe.

He’s not sure who it is that’s come looking, not sure whether he knows them or cares about them or cares if they find him and what they’ll think when they do. He’s lost his hope, the only thing anyone ever liked about him anyways. He might as well rot, after all, god, how laughable. He pries his eyes open and yes, it does sting, blinding afternoon light seeps into his vision and causes him distress. It’s too bright, too bright for how he feels right now. Please go back to nighttime, mother nature dear.

He can hear them ever clearer, hear rubble sliding around and comm devices bleep and screech as they speak hushed into them. His eyes catch little orange cigarette remains on the floor a foot away from his thigh, the cigarette butt, and he wishes he could have another “Last one.” He sighs heavy and groans in pain at the way his body protests the movement. The bud is bloody, nothing more than a worthless piece of what once was, and to his right is Togami’s body. Dare he even look for fear of throwing up at the thought of his deceased love, he can smell the blood well enough, remembers soft baby blues and handshaking in his own well enough. No need to look.

Maybe that’s the flask in the street he sees, shining silver with reflection from bright sun high in the sky with no right to be so when it belongs to the world that has taken Togami Byakuya away from him. But it’s a rock, a concrete block from the smatters of the rubble. He’s lost in now-awake, deafening silence and his train of thought on unstable icy rails-

“What the hell?”

He has no time to brace himself for the sudden voice, god, he would know that voice anywhere, and he wishes it would go away.

“Hey! I found them!”

He doesn’t look to where he hears the voice, no, he can’t look, no, no, no

Hagakure Yasuhiro is dancing around frantically just out of his sight, waving his arms at the others and squawking like he’s seen a dead man- oh, right.

Naegi can hear them as they approach, three pairs of footsteps, he thinks. He tries not to shift, tries not to make a sound or a peep. Maybe they’d think them both dead and scramble back to their toy helicopter and flee back to the headquarters again. He plays dead for a long, long beat as the three converse too quietly for him to be able to decipher their words. But they’re aside him in a heartbeat, Kirigiri and Aoi, he believes are the others. Aoi stands by like a pacing father at a delivery room, he can hear her pacing jump from foot to foot and squeak with nervousness. Kirigiri, always the rationale, is kneeling in front of him.

It feels so strange, having people so close, moving, breathing, speaking- no pain or agony- it’s like it’s all he’s know all his life, even though that’s as far from true as can be said.

He feels her hand smooth across his forehead, brushes sticky strands from his head- he stills his breathing instinctually, and she’s a soft huff in- is that relief? She’s deemed him alive, damn, and then she’s silent when she checks Togami. He wants to push to life and shove them all away, to get at them, stop them from touching him and berating him in death-

He doesn’t catch her words, maybe she hadn’t said anything- but Aoi gasps soft in surprise and stifles a sob.

What right had she to cry?

They never knew Togami as he had, never spared him the time of day because he came off as an asshole. He’d treated Naegi like dirt, but that was at first, he’d pressed, followed, piqued, and Togami opened up about his likes, dislikes (many of those) and most interestingly, his past. He’d learned so much about the man, why he was the way he was and god, that had been his downfall in his slipping into love. That is why he’d come back for him- they were friends, sure, but Naegi knows he’s the only one alive now that knows even a drop about Togami’s past.

None of them had ever put in an effort with him, even if they were all on good terms now. They had no right to feel true remorse, they had no right to grieve for him. But then… He’d failed Togami just as well, let him die out here in agony, he hadn’t been able to save him- He’s just as evil as they are.

He shudders, and that’s Kirigiri’s cue to gesture for them to try and pick him up, and he’s a shot of eyes open into saucer plates, bloodshot, wild, and a voice that’s not his own snarls out into the sun-

“Stop! Leave me here!”

It’s surprisingly clear, he’d thought himself hoarse at least, if not void of voice- but it seems something in him is just desperate enough to send them away. He struggles away from her hand on his arm and a slow moment of brief eye contact shows soft violets confused- she’s showing him some emotions, for once, but it’s too late- too late like everything else had been. He doesn’t want emotion, he wants to be alone.

“No.”

Ah, back to that blank slate. (Though maybe he’s seeing a pint of anger in those eyes and in that flick of braid over her shoulder, but maybe he’s crazy. Maybe he’s starving and thirsting and stir crazy and grieving so hard he can’t function-)

She yanks on his arm once, nods her head to Hagakure who’s playing obedience behind her in all his tied-up dreaded glory, and they’re lifting him away team effort and he’s putting up a catfish fight, flailing and groaning because yes, it hurts his body, but it hurts his soul to be forcibly ripped from Togami’s corpse- he needs just a little while longer with him- The loss of pressure on his shoulder and hand feel like electric shocks on his soul.

He can’t fight for long, tired body gives in too quick and he’s exhausted collapse in their arms as they drag him away. He pulls up dust all the way, sniffling and groaning, and maybe he can hear Aoi murmuring words to him, but whether or not they’re comfort he doesn’t know, doesn’t care to know. All he can see as they pry him from Togami’s final resting place is his body through slitted eyes- broken and feeble and bent over awkwardly-

Alone.


End file.
